I Want to Save Her
by N.T. Embe
Summary: The Crimson Bane and the Leader of Avalanche. Something happened between them when they fought. It had to have. How else could two incredible forces meet...and then come away unharmed? But she's...gone, isn't she? :Post DoC. UPDATED! CH2 IS UP!:
1. Savior

**Title:** I Want to Save Her

**Rating:** PG-13 (For now…)

**Theme:** Healing

**Pairings/Characters:** Cloud Strife and Rosso the Crimson

**Spoilers/Warnings:** Spoilers for Chapters 8 and onwards in Dirge of Cerberus.

**Time Period:** From about Chapter 7 in Dirge of Cerberus onwards. Begins during the attack on Deepground's headquarters in Midgar.

**Summary:** They came away from the battle both unharmed. How could this be? No cuts or injuries rested on either the blonde leader of Avalanche or the Worst Crimson. Yet she died later under Valentine's gaze…didn't she? …didn't she?

**Word Count:** 7,232

**Dedication:** This one goes to a lot of people.  
To **Sujika**, first of all. If you hadn't told me that I should RP as Rosso, I would never have considered looking into her at all. You began all this. So thank you. Because of you, I have fallen in love with her.  
To **PorcupineCuty**. You helped me find out so much about Rosso and plan out a great deal of this fic, and I know you'll be there to help me with more of it whenever I'm stuck or just need to rant about it. So thank you for that, and all you will still do.  
Lastly, I want to dedicate this to my brain-daughter, Altura. I put you through so much pain to make you into what turned out to be a lunatic, bloodthirsty monster who had lost not only every semblance of her humanity but of almost every shred of hope. I was never able to RP you to the point where you found that hope again, or found someone who could patiently and lovingly lead you back into the light. Because your constant pain lingers heavily in my heart, I will write this fic with you in mind. If I can save her, then I know, I am _certain_, I can save you, Altura. So hold on still. Your time is not yet come. I promise you, I will save you.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Dirge of Cerberus, or its characters. But Rosso reminds me…of someone dear to me. For that reason, I lay a little possessive, willful claim on her~ -Chuckles-

**A/N:** Cloud…I trust you.

. . . . . . .

Chapter One: Savior

. . . . . . .

Worthless. That was perhaps her thought, perched high above the world on a dilapidated throne. Their approaching forces held no more significance to her than would a stream of ants. Their airships, ground and levitated troops nothing more than pests not even worth swatting away. Let them come. There would be pitiful excuses for Deepground Soldiers that would more than easily sacrifice their lives to destroy such weaklings from the W.R.O.

This was all it had to offer.

She sat therefore, and patiently waited for him. The one that she could not see, that had no name. Yet he came, amongst the pests of humanity, there raced a beast of might—the only one she would fight. For though others trailed him, he was the marked, the grand kill of mighty proportions. It made her calmness all the more frightening because she knew he would be hers. The strength in him, the rarity of such a force. She would not need to hunt him long—he came already. On a steed of woven metal, blade ready, unaware of the predator's gaze that marked him, made him hers.

A chuckle came to her throat and she rose. Launched away from the crumbling parapet, she became a diving aerial of burnt vermillion, falling languidly from the heavens long denied her. There was no rush to her movements. Even her eyes shut briefly during the descent. No need to gaze upon the man beneath her—she would embrace him in lustrous bloodletting before long.

He was aware of her seconds after her plunge, a small gasp the only indication before he summarily gazed at her. Directly—hesitance bereft of him. Her blades released simultaneously, the sharp hitch of metal wings that would cleave the wind as hushed as his voice had been.

It was then that she looked at him.

He could see it in the way she held herself so still, her muscles languid yet taut, a magnificent beast holding a pose of elegance and discipline. Still composed, while beneath surged flames of inane desires—euphoric, this was her state. How her lips parted faintly, the smile tugging against the restraints of sanity. As she held his gaze, ignoring the dark lenses that hid his eyes, he could see its lie in the calm, tranquil blink that followed her low laughter—a chuckle so soft he might have imagined it.

A shine—like sunset upon the sky as she brought her double bladed weapon before her, did not need to stretch to achieve the perfect posture to bring herself to unison with it. Trails of smoke, or perhaps memories of light and power flowed out behind her as new streams were written by her blades, gleaming upon the air. In sharp contrast, the echo of blue encased her—pale ice in color, these wings streaming behind her, wrapped up in power before they burst their confines! Expanded, rushing together with the sunset trails, they became a cocoon of light that encased her, obscured her from sight completely.

Then shattered into flames.

There was a second. She became a streak against the sky and shadow of the Midgar ruins. That was all he had. At the last possible moment he leapt free of Fenrir, slimly escaping collision with the crimson bane. Vicariously the red shockwave tore above the earth as the ground below thundered, vaulting tremors raking the area. A massive flash of flames and debris flared from the surface, ashes and dust cresting high above the explosion.

Thrown upwards, he rode on the head of her strength, the force she ignited below them from the slender miss made all the more frightening by one thing else. Through smoke and ash, he never lost sight of her. Thus he knew she never let her eyes fall from him—even more certainly, that they sought out his eyes with reclined voracity. Taking the opportunity, he pulled his goggles off. They would only hinder him now.

She flew with him, emerging from the smoke an instant after he. Now their eyes truly met, but her face was calm. The smile of before was gone and her gaze even. In her eyes, there was only patience. His grip on his sword tightened.

As if sensing his readiness, she turned from him in midair, the motion smooth as she lifted her bent leg into a spin, gathering momentum. He tensed, drawing his own blade back in preparation before swinging it down as she came around to meet him. The sunset of her blade met the cool frost of his. In moments, they were engulfed in a gargantuan ream of light, deafened by the shrill roar of its power, nearly blinded by its intensity. At last, the pressure of their blades was stolen as they were torn apart, lost in the virile shockwaves of their combined strength.

It did not take long for him to land. To search for her—unnecessary. He turned around to parry, catching her blade lightly on his. Nothing lit her face. The thinner edge scraped down his coyly, the arm within the arched hilt outstretched towards him, the blade an invitation. He shifted his footing, body pulling back faintly. Tilting, the red wing of her blade rose from the edge of his, falling back towards her body.

Both vanished before it came to rest.

She appeared behind him, the muzzle of her weapon digging into his back before he could whirl around to face her. His blade caught hers, deflected the ream of bullets into the ground. Suddenly she pushed back with greater force. Her weapon swept higher against his blade until it slid completely off the steel. With a surge of speed and strength, she caught it once more on the other wing, throwing him back as her voice rang out after him.

"Why don't you fight?" She raised her arm towards him, her hand falling open to lay the weapon in her palm. "Don't tell me you don't want to." Laughter, condescending, trickled through her. "You have your sword drawn, darling." Her hand closed upon the handle of her weapon and she brought it back before her, resting it horizontally with him in her sights. Calmly, she stepped towards him.

"I don't want to fight," he responded, sharp blue eyes locked with hers. His sword was at the ready and he did not drop his guard, but he straightened a little as they spoke. "But that doesn't mean I won't fight if I have to, in order to help and protect those I love."

She tilted her head forward faintly, stopping where she stood and narrowing her eyes nonchalantly. "For love?" she questioned. Then she bolted at him, with more speed than he was prepared for. Gliding low to the ground at the last moment, her blade rose high as though to cut along his neckline, but he backed up, sword rising to block. Her arm shot out for his gut. He threw her blade off and blocked her attempt with his own—harmlessly. Her wings swiveled at that moment and crashed against the base of his blade, forcing it down enough so that she could use it to push herself off the ground, whirling into the air and striking at his head with her leg.

He ducked to evade her, but she drew her limbs close to her body and continued her spin effortlessly, another leg lashing out towards him with sudden velocity. His eyebrows furrowed and he grimaced momentarily, his sword angling to block her benignly. A glare of pale red interrupted his blade as she stabbed hers into the crumbling asphalt beneath them vertically, effectively blocking his defense. He caught the gleam of triumph in her eyes even though her face remained composed. Releasing the grip on her weapon, her arms stretched outwards at acute angles, her body wrenching around in another arc. This time, he had no time to defend.

He was sent to the ground and heard her land heavily. The scrape of metal against pavement sent an unseen jolt through him and his eyes darted to where she stood, leveling her blade smoothly…behind her. He had been disarmed, and he rose quickly but cautiously under her gaze. It was rare for him to lose his grip on his blade, regardless the opponent's advantages and tactics.

"Your reasons do not matter, darling."

With an idle roll of her head, she exhaled and looked down to his blade at her feet. Her boot came to rest upon his weapon. His gaze did not leave hers, and he waited until she met it. When she did, he could see she meant what she next said seriously. "As long as you fight, that is all that matters to me. There would be no point in killing you if you first do not truly ask for death."

"I can't do that," he said evenly. Still, he was not sure what she was getting at with such claims. "If you want to kill me, then go ahead. Try. But I can't let you take innocent lives."

"Too true, darling," she conceded, nodding her head agreeably. A twinge of a smile came into her face. "What about your compatriots?" A touch of confusion entered his eyes. His body stiffened almost imperceptibly. Steadily, her lips widened into a smirk. "Oh, is there some doubt there, darling?"

"What are you trying to say?" The corners of his lips turned downwards slightly and he clenched his hand slowly. He would have felt much more comfortable if he had his sword. Yet she did not appear to want to attack him, not now that she had neutralized him.

"Why do you fight with them? Not for them, _with_ them, darling." The smile faded on her lips and she blinked slowly at him, raising her forearm from the elbow up towards him, palm up. This was the answer she had been truly searching for then.

He was taken aback slightly. The way in which she asked, apart from the query that itself was unusual, was bewildering. But the fact that she was honestly seeking an answer alone made him consider not brushing her off. "They're my support, and my friends. Without them, I wouldn't be here," he finally answered cautiously.

She raised her arms and shrugged her shoulders, closing her eyes momentarily as she sighed, her tone almost disappointed. "Then you are merely obligated." Metal singing through the air faintly, she weaved her weapon from one hand into the other, letting her arms fall to her sides. Her crimson eyes leveled with his and for an instant, the disenchantment with him darkened her face. Then an arm rose horizontally, questioningly, and he could see the patience leaving her. "Or did you choose them, this very day? The moment you were asked to fight on their side, darling—did you choose to fight with them consciously, aware of your choice, knowing what it was you fought for?"

She lowered her voice, her eyes narrowing. "Or did you go with them because you were expected to?"

This time, his gaze darkened. "I chose to fight with them to protect the Planet, and therefore the people that live on it. That…hasn't changed."

"And yet you say you do not wish to fight," the claret woman noted dully.

"This is getting us nowhere—"

"Pardon me, darling," she interrupted him, laughing suddenly. She brought her hand almost to her forehead before moving it away and turning her head back towards him, the momentary disbelief in her face replaced by an almost disgusted look. But that too fled swiftly, and instead, open curiosity flickered in her eyes. "I am not getting through to you, I can see. But my question is—why do you fight with them…" Intrigue gleamed through her eyes. "…when you and your friends are worlds apart?"

He frowned slightly, but did not respond. However, she picked up on what she needed from that because she soon continued. "It is not merely in terms of your strengths or your ability, darling," she said with curls of laughter to her words. "But you are not even a part of these people you protect, and your friends are truly left behind in the dust at your feet." Her eyes gleamed brightly, the open grin to her lips compounded as she shifted her arm before her. Her weapon was still gripped languidly as she propped her elbow up on the back of the hand holding it. Her fingers curled at the side of her chin and she stood gazing at him in open awe and astounding.

"Can you truly call them your friends and fight equally with them, when they have no hope in life or death of achieving the strength you have?"

"That doesn't matter," he said quietly. "Real friendship, the kind that can withstand death as well as life, doesn't base itself on the assets of a person."

"Oho?" she laughed. "You truly think so, do you?" She removed her foot from his weapon and stood there, watching him. He said nothing and did not move, his eyes holding hers steady as he waited. A smirk touched her lips. She chuckled. "It looks like you are not so sure yourself, darling."

She kicked his sword over to him. He didn't move. He watched as she folded her weapon before placing it into its position upon her back. Shifting her head, shaking off a few nonexistent kinks from her neck, she even took the time to free her hair from where the crooked locks had snared, dipping her head forward. Then she closed her eyes, and smiled.

This time, he expected it when she appeared beside him in the next instant. He grimaced a little as he felt a sharp pain flare through his side. Reaching for it, he pressed his palm over the small hole in his shirt. As he turned his head to look down at it, she leaned towards him, lips curled, and asked something softly. His body stiffened slightly. A small chuckle; a murmur. Then she was gone.

The heaviness she had brought into the air in those last moments left. He looked around himself, but this time, she was completely removed from the area. To where she had gone, he could easily guess. He would have to warn the others of her probable intentions…and assure them of his safety.

Exhaling quietly he looked down to see what the damage was besides a slightly shaken fortitude. She had cut him just below the ribs, near his arm, but it was a thin cut and barely noticeable. However, it was deep enough that without treatment it would easily scar. He would do his best, but if it scarred…little harm done. It would be better than dealing with the fuss of Tifa or Yuffie's exaggerated stories of how she'd get back at the redheaded Tsviet. Though, when presented with either, he would rather deal with Yuffie any day. He sighed. The problem was, the girl _still_ could not keep from running off at the mouth. Tifa would find out, and come hunting him down with chastisements and complaints. Not a pretty picture by any standards.

No…neither of them would know. Vincent, however, he needed to talk to immediately if he could. And then…after this mess was taken care of….

He bent down and finally picked up his sword. Then he turned towards the sound of battle and broke into a run.

. . . . . . .

"_Your death will be nothing new to the Lifestream, will it darling?"_

"…"

"…_I thought not."_

. . . . . . .

The sun fell away. The storm rose, chiseled its way in over Midgar. Once more, as so often in the passing days, it brought with it darkness, and gleaming tendrils of lightning to streak the sky. Rain fell—heavy—yet with it, brought a lullaby to stifle the sounds of violence below. Advantages were erased as Deepground met W.R.O. Loss for loss, victorious neither, they fought nevertheless—towards an end, uncertain, but an end.

Near the heavens, the deceased President's office was chilled by a steady flood of air from open walls on three sides. Gullies siding the top floor of the devastated headquarters were littered with dead men of the World Regenesis Organization. Cleaved in red, she stood still and waited, knowing she would need to meet with the crimson gunman in battle before….

Drawn from her thoughts, she felt him draw near, soon watched as he walked towards her. The words she spoke were ones of intrigue, but ill-focused. He had survived. That was little concern to her. His fate was not her preoccupation. Nevertheless, she would engage him out of necessity. And he, this awkward excuse for a man, would crumble beneath his hope-burden. She had engaged him before. He was weak, too consumed by his sins and past to defeat her. The extent of his abilities were plain as day, his scapegoat a fluke. There was no need for concern.

An amused noise escaped her lips as he stopped several yards from her. "Still alive, I see," she said in much the same tone. Truly, most would not have survived such an injury. Let alone the beast that raged within. It was in his silence that his answer was given. Her eyes narrowed laxly and the echo of a sneer entered her voice as she continued. "And you call yourself human?" This…man…was a fool.

Just like the other.

"More human than you," he said evenly. The composure of his face and the calm with which he said it, these things….

"Huh?" she asked, leaning forward as she did so, disbelief thick in her voice. "More human than I?" Her shoulders rose gently. Her body shook with the motion. A laugh pressed its way into the air, her previously closed lips opening helplessly as further deep mirth spilled from it. Her body swayed and her head was thrown back with the sudden laughter, soon trickling off into a heady breath as she regained control of herself once more.

Raising her arms questioningly, she smiled beseechingly, bemusement thickly coloring her words. "Tell me something I don't already know, darling!" But her face became suddenly serious, eyelids falling slightly lower. "I'm a Tsviet!" Finality to the very words—this was all that needed to be known. It should have explained everything. He should have known this by this time.

Yet she could not stop.

"I traded away my human weaknesses for power long ago." A dangerous edge came into her voice then, and the calmness upon her face was replaced by a volatile anger ghosting just beneath the surface. "It is the path I've chosen, and the path I'll tread. Until I've sucked all life from this pitiful world!" she shouted. The amusement and laughter were vanquished. The frown that had settled her lips twisted into a vicious expression—her teeth bared to the heavens, her eyes overwhelmed by fire.

Anger gripped her, arms raised to the sky as though daring it to come down and challenge her. The gunman did not answer her. Moments…and the echoes of gunshots were heard from the highest point of the old Shin-Ra building. Flashes of fire and lightning tore through the decrepit height.

Suddenly, silence. A scream. Moments…and a flare of red came to light. Wielding it, a figure stood upon a pinnacle…and laughed. Laughed as the concrete gave way beneath it. Laughed…and fell.

The moon took its place in the sky silently.

. . . . . . .

"_No one…."_

. . . . . . .

The W.R.O. forces had made some progress, moving to within a hundred yards of the infested Shin-Ra building. The battles raged fiercely, and it was clear that the W.R.O. troops, previously outmatched, were finally making headway. In several areas the fighting had clearly lessened. These places were the zones of tenuously held victory, where at last the Deepground battalions had given in and retreated, or had been slaughtered.

In one of these places did he finally find the time to focus on one persistent issue. The air forces had already joined up with the ground troops, which accounted for much of the progress being made now. But, as to Vincent's location, no one knew exactly, and he had had no time to check. Now Cloud pulled back his sword, watching the motions of the enemies from afar cautiously as he asked Tifa to attempt to get in touch with their comrade.

The lack of the Colored Deepground units…this guaranteed that Vincent would certainly be meeting up with one or more of them soon. If he was not already engaged with them. Not that Vincent could not handle himself, but…a helping hand would not hurt. "Tifa," he said as Barret called out to them, marking a squad of Deepground soldiers and unfolding his gatling gun before tearing into them with the grafted weapon. "Have the map ready for him when you get through," he informed her as he moved to meet the men that had made it past Barret's line of fire.

"Sure th—Hey! I got through!" Tifa exclaimed.

"Tifa?" a hesitant voice was heard from the other line.

Barret instantly pulled away from the concrete cover they had and moved over to see the phone. "What! You got through?!" he cried. "Yo-ho-hooo! Vincent! You still alive?!" the man shouted, a grin on his face as he leaned in closer to the phone, making sure the dark-haired gunman could hear him.

"Of course he is. We're talking to him aren't we?" Tifa asked pointedly. "And do you really have to shout right next to my ear?" she said, pulling away from the other man, clearly a little annoyed at him. Barret laughed heartily and raised a hand apologetically. "Sorry about that, Tifa," he said, running back to their vehicle and then around to the uprooted concrete defenses in order to lay down another line of suppressive fire. As Barret nodded to him, Cloud deflected an attack and pushed back a DG soldier, effectively stopping him with an angled slash downwards.

As the man fell, he stepped back cautiously, watching as another approached but holding out his hand for the phone as Tifa said, "I apologize about that Vincent. Here's Cloud." He took the phone as it was handed over to him, asking swiftly, "Vincent?" However he did not have to worry long, for a burst of gunfire cut down the DG soldier and Cloud looked to Barret appreciatively.

"Cloud," he heard the familiar voice of the ex-Turk answer. "It's been a while."

"Sounds like you're doing well," Cloud commented lightly, but his attention soon turned elsewhere. "Where are you right now?" he asked.

"Finally inside the Shin-Ra building."

"Finally?" he questioned, noting the slight lilt to his friend's voice. Not exactly irritation, but there was certainly a mark of impatience to it.

"The Tsviets. I had to deal with one of them."

"Still in one piece then?" he asked, recalling his own brief encounter with the Crimson Tsviet.

"For now."

Cloud's lips turned upwards slightly, but the smile disappeared in the next moment. "Expect the others," he said. "None of the air or ground troops here have spotted them in the area."

Vincent made a noise of confirmation over the line. "Have you tried Shelke?" he suggested.

"We can't reach the Shera," Cloud said, glancing to the skies near the Shin-Ra building automatically. It didn't take him long to fill Vincent in on the rest of the situation, or to douse unnecessary concerns on either of their parts. Both knew the other was fully capable of taking on the situation at hand. After a minute, Cloud handed the phone over to Tifa so that she could upload the map to Vincent. In the meanwhile he busied himself holding back the growing forces of DG troops in the area. Apparently their little alcove had been discovered at last.

Seeing this, Tifa rushed her instructions and gave Vincent a quick "Good luck!" while Barret leaned over and shouted into the phone's receiver himself. "Give 'em hell, Vincent!" As Tifa turned irately to snap at Barret, Cloud took the opportunity, and the phone. "Don't go getting yourself killed now," he finished for them, a playfulness to his words that did not undermine the seriousness of the situation. Pulling the phone away from his ear, he ended the call and put the device away, turning back to the fight at hand.

If Vincent had already dealt with one of the Tsviets, then warning him as to their coming was unnecessary. Right now, they would do their part, and buy Vincent time to infiltrate Deepground.

Still, his mind flickered back to the woman.

"_There would be no point in killing you if you first do not truly ask for death."_

At this rate, it was certain she would meet with Vincent in battle. If she perished…. He thought about her words, but soon turned away from these things. There were other concerns at hand right now. If she did die, well….

. . . . . . .

"_Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do._

…

_But…I understand."_

. . . . . . .

The moonlight could not reach here. Darkness consumed the ashen debris. The wreckage gathered between haphazardly standing walls—like beheaded kings, their armor crumbling or dangling off their sides, strewn around them. Asphalt upturned and ripped from the ground made traversing here more dangerous than difficult. No battles were waged here. No one could survive on such ill footing. Metal wrenched and twisted into vicious fangs, and piping jutting from slabs of concrete was ready to impale even the wary traveler the moment their footing slipped on a loose slab of rock, the instant rubble underfoot slid beneath their weight. Under the eaves of the Shin-Ra Headquarters, nothing but the rain came here.

Soft and shallow, ragged breaths—these went unheard. But for a figure moving through the ruinous environment, their source would have gone unnoticed until they too faded. But something caught the eye. The faint glow of blue mako lines, partially obscured by stone and then a splash of the fluorescent liquid, as though something had been torn to allow the characteristic fluid to spill out of its confines. This was what made footsteps pause, and then shift direction. Steadily, they drew nearer, until at last something could be made out.

It lay within the debris, warped out of proportion. Claret locks ran darker under the rainfall and potentially blood as well. Fair skin was gashed and filthy, stark against the blackness. The body was twisted frighteningly, face downwards—but that was unnecessary to identify the figure. One shoulder seemed dislocated, bearing most of the weight of the body, the other arm clearly broken, fingers splayed open in a silent scream of pain. A leg was torn right through. In fact, a large beam of metal clearly tapered off into a sharp edge was still biting into the thigh of the figure. The ankle on the same leg was swollen and purpling already, signaling severe damage. At best, the remainder of the body seemed intact, though the nearness of the metal edge could have sliced the side or stomach of the casualty.

Rising from where it knelt, the figure that had approached the violently strewn body pulled out a phone. Swiftly it selected 9 on its speed dial, and as soon as the other end was picked up, began to speak clearly but rapidly. "I need both a medical and trauma-sensitive excavation team to the south-west side of the Shin-Ra Headquarters building, ground zero _immediately_. Chopper them in and make certain the medics bring equipment for an offsite blood transfusion. I'll send out an electronic beacon. Track it directly! We'll need to lift this one out of the rubble! Hurry! I need them here in less than ten! We've got no time!"

Ending the call abruptly, it quickly pushed several buttons before snapping the phone shut. Silently, a red light on the phone began to flash. Without another word, the phone was placed away and the figure moved to begin clearing the area of anything that would prove a hazard to both teams. Any progress that could be made now might just save this woman's life.

"Hold on there, help's on the way," the masculine voice said.

. . . . . . .

"_But, sir! That's…!"_

"_I know who it is. Forget that and do what you can to save her!"_

. . . . . . .

Dawn came.

Had it not been for actions of all the people of Midgar, and especially one Vincent Valentine, there would have been no dawn. One day, and the threat of Deepground was stilled at last. No more lives to be taken, no more fears and losses to be expected of such a kind as had not been seen for three years. The Planet was safe, Omega placed into a final rest.

The clean-up once more began. The people banded together, and the crippled World Regenesis Organization was uplifted and filled with those wishing to aid in not only its recovery, but that of all Midgar itself. Voices and people unseen throughout most of the terror of Deepground's rising rose up and offered not merely their allegiance and aid openly, but plans towards hope. Once enemies offered themselves up as kin. Knowing that now there was little worse than the forces that had been staved off by the members of Avalanche once more, these men and women were welcomed with open arms and hearts.

Dawn had come, to be sure…but for one controversial soul.

An outcry and the abrupt clattering of two large boxes to the floor was made all the louder as one sprang open, supplies raucously clanging as they spilled out amongst the feet of the people moving through the room. Turning to see what was the source of all the noise, a stream of curses interrupted Cloud's attention. Turning his gaze from Cid to Tifa curiously, he noted the way his childhood companion was staring openmouthed at a horizontal cylinder. It was the kind that they had grown used to seeing in the W.R.O. headquarters and that Reeve had informed them at one point was used mainly to speed the recovery of the critically wounded.

But when his eyes locked onto the face of the person sealed inside, he could not suppress his own astonishment. Unmoving, paler than before, injured to the point of disgust on some areas of her body—this was Rosso the Crimson, encased in glass and metal, her body suspended in the pale blue of the rejuvenating concoction.

"Is there something the matter?" Reeve called, stepping back inside the room to where the three Avalanche members had ceased in their simple task of helping with delivering supplies for the W.R.O. building as it was slowly reconstructed. However, he noted swiftly where they looked then and it dawned on him what had caused the scene he saw unfolding. Unfortunately, he was unable to explain anything before two of them leapt on him with questions.

"What in the hell are ya thinkin', Reeve?!" "Reeve! What are you doing with her here!" "Draggin' a crazy-ass bitch inta your own _building?!_" "You actually _saved_ one of them? After all these people _did_ to us!" "AN' WHAT IN THE HELL'RE YA HEALIN' HER FER?!" "I can't believe you'd do this!"

Much to their surprise, and incredulousness, Reeve chuckled. "If you would just allow me to explain, perhaps we could avoid this," he said nonchalantly. "However, if you want to know why it was I brought her back here and tried to save her life, I don't quite have an answer for you. I did it simply because I felt it was wrong to leave her there the way she was."

Cloud turned away from the drastically injured woman to look at the W.R.O. Commissioner. "The way she was?" he asked before the others could interrupt with their protests again. Reeve turned his gaze upon him and nodded before explaining. "She's had multiple fractures and broken bones all over her body. A lung collapsed on her, both her arms and a leg needed reconstruction, and she had severe head trauma. She's been out cold ever since we've found her. However, her condition _has_ considerably improved."

Cloud's eyes drifted back to the vessel the Tsviet was held in. "I know it looks bad," the former Shin-Ra executive continued, as though able to sense the Avalanche leader's thoughts. "But it's nothing compared to how she was when we found her."

"And you're helping her _why_ again, Reeve?" Tifa interrupted impatiently, a hand on her hip as she stepped closer to Cloud.

"That's exactly what I would like ta know myself!" Cid demanded emphatically, eyeing the cylinder containing the woman oddly. "She was bad news from the moment I laid eyes on 'er. What the heck're ya gonna do with 'er once she wakes up is what I'd like ta know!"

"I haven't quite decided that yet," Reeve answered Cid truthfully. "But I don't think that saving her was a bad move on my part, or that it'll end up being particularly terrible for either Midgar or the W.R.O."

"Tell that ta all the people who died under that bloodthirsty witch's hands!" Cid interjected.

"I know the number all too well, Cid," Reeve responded quietly, his voice gravely serious. "The exact count of people that the Crimson Tsviet killed alone is greater than all the casualties we received from the full-fledged attack on Deepground's base in the center of Midgar. And that's counting only W.R.O. volunteering members."

"And yet you still took her?" Tifa asked, plainly disgusted. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"Look, I've taken full responsibility for anything that might happen and—"

"And what, Reeve? If she goes berserk and decides to slaughter every last W.R.O. member—_and_ you—then it's going to be your fault and nothing less than you deserve," she continued coldly. "When you do things like this you're asking for trouble. And really, why should we help you if you're going to be helping out our enemies?"

"Tifa," Cloud interrupted quietly. "Let it go."

"Cloud! How can you say that?" she objected. "He admitted himself that she's nothing better than a cold-blooded killer! A monster!"

"She's gotta point there, Cloud," Cid added in, calmer this time after getting over the initial shock. "Besides, what's keeping 'er alive gonna do but cause problems in the future fer alla us?"

"He did what he thought was right," Cloud upheld, looking to Reeve. Reeve, while not shaken much by Tifa's accusations, still looked appreciative for his part. "Question is, what are your plans for her once she wakes up?"

Reeve cleared his throat slightly and walked between them and over to the cylinder containing the woman. "Technically, she can be woken up at any time. While keeping her in this chamber places her body in an artificially induced coma so that her body can heal itself faster, if at any point she is released from that state, the likelihood is that she would still take about two to three days to revive. After that, I was hoping to possibly use her to gather further information on the proceedings of Deepground, the experiments that went on there and so forth. She can be a very valuable asset to the W.R.O. in preventing anything like this from happening again, in addition to providing the keys perhaps to her own miraculous experiment."

"Oh yah?" Cid asked dubiously, following Reeve as he walked over to the cylinder and peering into the chamber for only a short while before looking away. "An' what kinda experiment was she the star of? Like we need any more."

"According to Shelke's information, though there is very little to be had, Rosso was the closest successful experiment to achieving immortality."

"Immortality!" Tifa exclaimed as though more mortified than amazed.

"Of course retrieving that information from her is going to be a long way from now," Reeve assured. "She has quite a bit of recovery to do, and it'll take upwards of a year if not more for her to fully heal. Even then, I doubt she'll be able to function as she did before her injuries, though I'm not quite sure if they'll be permanent."

"She's crippled then?" Cid asked tenuously.

"I can't be too sure." Reeve shook his head. "We're going to do our best to help her recover but—"

"So you're still going to help her?" Tifa interrupted, finally unable to stand being left out while the others spoke.

"Of course, Tifa," Reeve commented. "I never said I wouldn't."

"I still have yet to hear a good enough reason why," she pressed. "Preventative information and experimental research? I'm sorry, but Deepground is gone. The former shouldn't _happen_ again at all! And why do you need the research? It sounds a little too much like dabbling in the dark side of Shin-Ra again."

"Tifa's right, Reeve," Cid commented. "The experiment part seems a bit off the wall ta put it lightly. Ta be quite honest, I don't really see the reason fer ya helping out this woman here at all 'sides fulfilling yer own fancy. An' I'm not quite sure it's such a good idea ta begin with."

"No harm will come of it I assure you," Reeve said, sighing lightly. "The entire impulse to save her came mostly because I didn't feel anyone deserved to die in such a manner. If she turns out to be more than we can handle…then perhaps I'll have regretted saving her in the first place, but at the least I won't allow for her to do any harm."

As they others continued to talk, he busied himself with collecting the things that had scattered across the floor. For the most part, Cloud did not want to involve himself in anything that they were saying. He drew close to the chamber in which she was kept eventually, once the boxes were righted and filled again. Silently, he placed a hand atop the glass and gazed down into the radiant liquid. The wounds were ugly, her body no longer as straight or powerfully poised as it had been in those moments in battle. It was almost as though they were not the same women, this injured being and the Crimson Bane he had faced only one short day ago.

As the other three talked, even as they had been going on while he stood to the side and only listened to them, he felt progressively more uncomfortable. Not a single one of them was looking at this woman as though she was…just that. In their eyes, this was not a human being, not a person. She was just a beast, or an experiment, or a killer. Yes, perhaps she wasn't altogether human, but…he had seen firsthand what could happen to a person who was told this, time and time again or just one time enough. He knew, all too well, what could become of them.

"Reeve."

The others stopped talking as Cloud interrupted them, turning their attention to him and noting how he gazed down into the chamber. After a moment, Cloud raised his head and turned to look at them. "Let me take care of her."

Reeve blinked. Cid looked stunned. Tifa was the first to respond vocally. "What! Cloud! Are you out of your mind? Haven't you heard a single thing that we've said this entire time!"

"Yes," he responded. "Which is why I want to help her."

"You can't be seri—"

"Are you certain about this, Cloud?" Reeve cut Tifa off as she spoke, a curious look on his face.

"Yes," he said resolutely.

Reeve gazed at him for a moment, before looking to the glowing chamber, silently determining what to do. After a while his gaze returned to Cloud's and he raised his eyebrows faintly. "I won't be able to persuade you otherwise," he admitted. "And I see no problem with this overall."

"Reeve!" Tifa interjected incredulously, staring at the Commissioner of the W.R.O. in disbelief.

"Thank you, Reeve," Cloud said.

"But you must be certain that she gets the proper medical attention. She will need special care, and constant supervision. A calm environment would best aid in her recovery," Reeve added on, the concern and warning alike evident in his voice.

"I've already got a place in mind," Cloud reassured him before turning his attention to the other male. "Cid. Can you give me a lift?"

The pilot sighed and scratched the back of his head, making a face at the other blonde. "Don't know why ya'd want ta put yerself through this, Cloud," he said reluctantly. "But if yer gonna go through with it, a lift's the least I'll do fer ya."

Cloud nodded and moved to pick up one of the boxes Tifa had dropped previously. "Reeve, can you have her ready for travel by the time we're done here?"

"Certainly," he assured him.

Cloud nodded silently to him. With that, he turned to move through the left doorway and onwards towards the building's supply levels. However, Tifa cut him off, grabbing his arm.

"Cloud!" she cried out. "Why are you doing this? What's gotten into you all of a sudden? You heard what she's done, and you _know_ she's completely out of her mind! She killed hundreds of innocent people, and she almost killed Vincent! Why would you want to help someone like her!"

"Tifa," Cloud began patiently. "I don't expect you to understand."

"That's because you're not doing something that makes sense!" she objected. "That woman will only try to kill you from the moment she sees you! She shouldn't be alive, and you're volunteering to _babysit_ her and nurse her back to health!"

He was silent for a moment. "You don't think that she's worth saving?" Cloud asked her.

"No, I don't, Cloud. And I don't see why you do!"

"Then I don't think anything I say will help you to understand." He stepped around her and moved onwards.

"Cloud!"

"Tifa," he exhaled, turning around enough to see her. "This is my choice. Not yours. I'm not asking you to be a part of it, and I don't expect you to be. I want to help her. That should be enough." Without another word, he turned away from her and moved through the doorway. Wisely, Reeve and Cid said nothing, merely following after the blonde male and leaving Tifa behind to deal with this as she saw best. After a long while, she too picked up the last package and left the room in silence, only a dark glance spared the crimson woman before she left the room.

For her part, the once-Tsviet lay motionless in the cylindrical chamber. Though her wounds were slowly, steadily knitting themselves together again, greater wounds festered beneath the surface still. Reeve had mentioned nothing, but as she had been brought in, one thing had she murmured repeatedly as fever and pain consumed her, until she was finally placed into a forced coma.

It was…worrisome.

. . . . . . .

"…_strife."_

. . . . . . .

**Author's Note:** O: …chapter one, done! 8D After planning this for weeks, writing it _for_ a week, it is now finally finished! The first of its kind! I can't _believe_ there are no other Cloud/Rosso fics out there! D: How can people NOT see it?! Dx They have so much POTENTIAL! And don't tell me no one else was upset with the way they cut off that EPIC fight scene in Dirge of Cerberus. COME ON! They were JUST…GETTING…STARTED! DX

But on a serious note, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of my fic! There will be plenty more, and I have a loooot planned for these two. :3 I hope you'll all enjoy it just as much as I know I will! And spread the love, spread the LOVE! Cloud and Rosso! Whoohoo! xD

On a completely unrelated side note. Can you tell which characters I'm not especially fond of? –Giggles!- X3 Please review! I would love to hear what you thought about this, if you liked or disliked anything, or comments in general about the two! For everyone else, I hope you enjoyed it! Ta-ta for now!


	2. Mideel

**Summary:** It is too soon to tell if this was a good idea. Suspicions run high, while uncertainty reigns over more than one mind. You brought her here to die? Or to live? What kind of life is this anyway…and will you both be able to face it for what it truly is?

**Word Count:** 8,633

**Warning:** It gets a little graphic and disgusting when the injuries are described.

**A/N:** First of all, thank you to everyone that reviewed. I…am _still_ shocked by how much feedback I've gotten for this story, when it was only in its first chapter. Your reviews are as gratifying as is writing, and I can't hide the fact that they're both intimately connected. Because of that, I am dedicating this second chapter to the ten of you that took the time out to stand by this fic and wait endlessly, in some cases, for an update. I thank you.

Spiritfire88 and elle XVI: I would like to someday thank you in a better manner than I am now, but I wanted to take out the time to personally reassure you both, since your concerns are the same. I wrote it countless times on my profile as I updated this or that, and now I will embed it in this fic permanently as a reassurance. I promise I will not abandon this story. -Smiles-

IVIaedhros and niconugget: It is quite the unusual pairing… It's going to take also quite a bit of work to make it actually feasible. With or without the confidence of others, I know I've got your backing, and I hope to live up to your expectations. Enjoy the fireworks along the way!

Captain Deadpool and Spock94: Thank you both endlessly for your compliments and faith in me! It is flattering, but more so…it gives me confidence of a kind I'm not certain I can explain. I'm just so happy to know I have your support! n_n It means the world. Truly~

RogerDering, Coca-Cola, and caiko7lovely: I agree absolutely! Cloud and Rosso are quite the rare concept indeed. It would be wonderful to see what other ideas people have for their potential together. -Claps hands delightedly!- Onwards, it shall go! Hopefully others too will take up the pairing soon! :D

Shigeki-Hizashi: Ahmm, well she wouldn't have been repeating it like a broken record. -Chuckles- In fact, I imagined her to have mentioned it once, twice… enough times that it would be noteworthy, not repetitive per se. Thank you for commenting too! -Smiles brightly-

. . . . . . .

Chapter Two: Mideel

. . . . . . .

Clouds were rolling in. On the ground, a figure raised a hand into the air, signaling the airship. The whirling rotors increased in speed. Great jets of air were spurred to life beneath the engines to an enormous roar of sound. The Shera lifted. The lone figure on the ground dropped their arm forcefully, trotting out of the way of the rising craft. A great hissing rushed from the base of the ship before metal gateways were opened, releasing new streams of air and sending the ship dramatically upwards, its speed increased twofold.

It crested on a high current and gears were switched promptly. A shift in the rushing engines rocked the ship forward and it nudged itself downwards into the stream. A cold wind splashed over the Shera as it settled into the current, engines smoothing out audibly as a rumbled whirring overtook the other mechanisms. The Shera broke into the sky's veil and was lost to sight. The figure on the asphalt stared after it for a minute longer before reaching into a pocket. It pulled out a phone and brought it to its ear.

. . . . . . .

"_They've taken off."_

. . . . . . .

The cabin was quiet. A few crew members at control panels monitored various aspects of the airship's functions, from the engines and wing function to changes in wind speed and weather, ensuring a flawless and steady flight. They, however, were engrossed in their work. Atop the raised platform in the cabin, the Shera's blonde captain leaned slightly atop the large wheel. His steel blue eyes were riveted on the thick, bland gray clouds past the cabin's spherical window. They curled and parted unwillingly to let the ship pass, as though great lazy felines being prodded to move from the path upon which they laid in lethargic repose.

The soft hiss of an airlock releasing drew his gaze away from the endless sight to the open door of the cabin. "Humph," the pilot commented vocally. "Was wondering when ya'd show up." The darkly adorned man took this as his invitation to join the other blonde at the wheel, following the captain's line of sight out the front of the ship. "How are things in the back?" the captain continued, quieter. They had been airborne for some twenty minutes, and only now had Cloud shown face from out of the back control room that had been deserted except for one stray, unusual passenger.

"Quiet," the other blonde replied, his vivid blue eyes searching the clouds that bore his name for some sign of a change in the monotony. Ever since the outrageous decision he had made a short hour prior, things had become all too still. While Edge celebrated and the W.R.O. worked at repairs, the former members of Avalanche that had seen their leader choose to put his freedom and possibly life on the line yet again were subdued. Questions they dared not ask were in their faces and on the tips of their tongues. Even those that attempted to uncover the purpose of the disconcerting act were disappointed or left foundering. Not that Cloud kept his reasons secret. But because they did not want to believe, or understood all too well, the reason why.

"Nothing's changed then? She still out cold?" The pilot could not keep the slight agitation out of his voice when he asked. Cloud did not answer at first. Then he stepped up to the railing that separated the raised deck from the rest of the cabin, placing a hand on it. Cid watched him for only a moment. "Guess Reeve was right then," he answered himself, muttering the words. The spiky haired blonde remained silent.

"'ey Cloud," the captain attempted again, this time the words slower, quieter. "Can I ask ya something?" After a pause, the blonde nodded, saying nothing. Though he still continued to look forward, eyes patiently studying the sight before them, a door had been opened welcomingly to the older male. Unlike before, the situation he found himself in now was immensely more comfortable than the one in the W.R.O. facilities. There were no accusations to be faced here. Merely Cid's inquisitiveness. It, unlike that of any of his other companions, could be guaranteed back to a humble desire and concern for his wellbeing. Thus, heartened a little by the openness of the quiet man, the pilot placed his hands back on the steering wheel and voiced his thoughts.

"I can get why yer doing this, Cloud," the middle aged man began. A confession, not a reasoning tactic building up towards debate and opposition. "After all, we should all know who ya were thinking of when ya asked ta take on the responsibility." He shook his head. "Tifa wasn't taking that inta consideration when she asked ya ta reconsider. An' ya know full well she wasn't thinking of what ya wanted."

"That's why I appreciated it when Barret offered to take her home," Cloud acknowledged, his voice still quiet.

Cid nodded slowly, waving a hand as though to say what didn't need to be voiced. "That too," he agreed. "Anyways, what ya choose to do with 'er is yer decision, though that was a little cold of ya." The other blonde said nothing, instead a faint fog came over his face. "Th-that's not the point though, dammit!" Cid roughly objected. "I get why ya did it," he said again, sterner this time, demanding the man's attention. "She was too emotional, an' she's unreasonable when it comes ta these things. Ya had it right when ya said if she didn't get it, there'd be no point in explaining it anymore."

"Cid," Cloud said a little tiredly, still not looking at the man. "If I wanted to hear this, I'd talk to anyone else." He knew from experience the pilot could go off on tangents depending on the subject. Most of the time, Cloud never had an objection to make when he started in on one. It was comforting listening to the other man complain and curse about whatever had him steaming from the ears. Perhaps it was the magnitude of the battle that had ended a day before still weighing heavily on his mind. So many people had died, and so many horrors beyond their wildest beliefs been unearthed that it shocked even their avidly anti-Shin-Ra group, Avalanche.

Just when they thought they'd seen it all…. A new terrible arc rose and sought to destroy the fragilely rebuilt peace they had finally thought was securely theirs. This had happened before, too. Twice already, the world had been plagued and threatened. First by Geostigma, later by the arrival of the remnants of Sephiroth's failed experiments. Was peace truly so fickle? Was happiness so hard to obtain…?

No.

They _had_ happiness. Even throughout all the horrors and miseries they faced, there was still joy in the things they cherished. Unto death and beyond the grave. These were the things that kept such a world as the Planet's at peace even in its darkest hours. Hope and joy, the tender healing of love for the people and world they cared for.

"I'm sorry, Cloud."

Bright mako-tinted eyes turned on the repenting blue of the pilot's. The former cadet gave a faint nod to reassure his friend. "What were you going to say, Cid?" he encouraged the man to continue.

"Things I didn't wanna say in front of the others," Cid confessed, brows wrinkling and mouth tilting sideways in irritation or anxiousness. He didn't say anything else as he tried to recall what it was he had been thinking to tell the young lone wolf. "Ah!" he exclaimed suddenly, snapping his fingers in front of his face. "I wanted ta ask ya," he continued. "What ya thought of Reeve's explanations."

Cloud's eyebrows rose faintly and he turned around completely to face Cid at the steering wheel.

"I ask ya 'cause, ta be frank, it was all sounding very fishy ta me. Suspicious, ya know what I mean?" He grumbled and checked their direction before going on. "Reeve's got his good intentions, but I'm getting mighty tired of lettin' some of his Shin-Ra stuff git past us. The crap he comes up with can be helpful, but it's also weird ass shit. I can sit back an' be happy about it, or I can pat ya on the back an' tell ya I'd trust ya more in a million years than him with somebody like that woman ya got in my ship.

"An' the reason I'm bringing it up!" he continued before the other man was able to respond, though Cloud continued to merely listen and had not once attempted to interrupt Cid as he spoke. "Is 'cause ya feel the same way." Calm steel blue eyes turned on the clear blue of his younger companion's. "I got the message figured out when ya said ya already had a place figured fer this little delivery trip."

Cloud stared back at his friend and then nodded. "I didn't like the way any of you were talking about her," he confessed and turned away from the pilot, stepping back to the railing and gazing at the ship windshield.

"An' I'm sticking by it," Cid responded. Then he grumbled loudly, snorting abruptly. "The only reason I'm going along with this little escapade of yers, Cloud, is that ya've proven us wrong before. An' I know none of us can do much of anything fer this…lady." He grunted and nodded at the spiky haired man. "But ya can."

The darkly-adorned blonde searched the clouds in front of them silently. "Don't tell them where I'm going, Cid." It was a request, not a command.

Cid laughed mirthlessly, a barking sound in the quiet cabin. "Ha! Don't ya worry, kid," he grinned. "If yer gonna wanna have _any_ chance of surviving this ordeal, then I'll keep them as far away from ya as I can." He paused a moment. "Fer yer sake," he finished lowly.

"Thanks," Cloud answered, a slight edge of laughter coming into his voice.

The Shera's captain shook his head, lightly swiping his thumb against his nose as he finally broke into a crooked grin. "'ey, save it. I can tell already, by the time yer through with favors from me, I'm gonna wanna choke the ever-lovin' shit outta ya and yer thank you's. Now, would ya mind telling _me_ where I'm going with yer skinny ass?"

Cloud looked almost as though he would smile.

. . . . . . .

"_Mideel."_

. . . . . . .

The further southeast they had flown, the darker the skies and their clouds grew, until the Shera was fighting to break through a storm that would not cease. Either it followed them along to their destination, or it was wide enough to cover half a continent and then some. Landing on the decent sized, but mostly uninhabited island that held the tiny village of Mideel was a challenge in and of itself. The grassy plains, not far between the raging ocean and dense tropical forest, were slick and soft from the storm rains. The airship, Cid said, could not remain in its chosen location for more than half an hour, or takeoff would prove difficult. They could push an hour, but beyond that, it would become almost impossible and damaging to the landing and internal storage gear of the ship.

As Cloud stepped out onto the thin grassy alcove on the southern side of the island, the rain already drenching him, he asked if Cid could provide a makeshift shelter for him. "What, ya gonna set up tent with an injured woman in yer care? Even if she was well and perfectly sane this is a fucking bad idea! Look at the weather!" the pilot shouted back, watching as Cloud climbed up the ramp into the ship again. The Avalanche leader placed a hand on the other blonde's shoulder and nodded. "Then you'd better help me get it up," he replied.

The Shera's captain cursed and stomped deeper into his ship.

It took about fifteen minutes to locate and put up a sturdy, weatherproofed tent in the borderline of the trees. Cid asked few questions and focused mostly on helping Cloud cart the few supplies he had requested into the small shelter, which was then zipped up securely. "Think the bugs'll get inta it?" Cid asked. Cloud shook his head. "Everything's sealed. Even if they got into the tent, nothing would be scented or damageable." The pilot grunted and followed the other blonde through the airship.

Pausing before the control room to open the door, Cloud did not need to glance back to know Cid would follow him inside. As the two men entered, the captain closed the door behind them. He did not make it a habit to hide things from his crew, but the last thing either of them wanted was others gawking at the most noteworthy cargo currently on the Shera. Clothed in long white slacks and a shapeless white shirt with long sleeves to match, the Crimson Tsviet was strapped gently and securely down in a reclined chair, a thick blanket over her to keep any chills away from her during the long trip. Swiftly both men went to work, and as Cid took off the blanket, Cloud carefully unbuckled the woman from the makeshift seatbelts. More than half an hour had already passed. Time was running out. Only the unconscious woman Cloud wrapped once more in the warm gray blanket, and lifted gingerly into his arms, was unaware of the essence of their speed.

"How're ya gonna carry her through that?" Cid asked as he walked ahead of the blonde, holding the door open for him wherever needed until they reached the exit ramp. "It's raining cats an' dogs out there, Cloud!"

"Captain!" A crewman called out from on the ground. "It's let up finally," he said cheerfully as he walked back up the ramp and onto the ship.

"But we dunno how long it'll hold!" Cid countered and turned to Cloud. "Welp! Get yer ass moving, 'cause if it starts ta rain again, ya'll BOTH get it from me!"

"You've got the right," Cloud responded and stepped down onto the thick, springy grass of the southern field. "I'll be in touch," he assured as he started walking.

"Ya'd better be!" Cid shouted after him. "Else I'll drop ya off with the goblins next time, from fifty feet up!" With a grinding sound, the metal gears began to work and the ramp hissed as it rose. "Alright, get back ta work!" Cloud could hear the blonde captain yelling to his crew. Careful not to jar the woman in his arms unwittingly, he sped up his pace until he reached the edge of the woods. Behind him, he could hear the thunderous gusts and whirring of the Shera as it began to lift off.

Now he would follow the forest until the grassland disappeared, and then take a reclusive path hidden in the thick foliage that would lead him to his destination, one mile west of Mideel village.

From the cabin of the Shera, Cid watched the figure adorned in black carrying the one in gray and white further away until the ship crested and turned away from Mideel, back to Edge. Unspoken thoughts lingered on his mind, made all the more dominant as he lost sight of his fellow companion. He had meant to say more to Cloud, but somehow, could not bring himself to.

. . . . . . .

"_I saw ya. Fighting with her…_

…_and talking._

_What did she say ta ya, I wonder?"_

. . . . . . .

Deep brown stone made up the exterior of the multi-room cabin, giving it a rough-hewn and multi-shaded appearance that allowed it to blend easily into its surroundings. Three steps led up to the only door, a small rectangular window embedded in the stone on its left side. Everything else—it was soon found—that wasn't stone, was wood. Upon entering the cabin, one was in a small door-less room that functioned as an entrance, a storage room and a half-closet. To the left was an area where plenty of clothes for all weather types hung, while a small shoe rack was included underneath. On the right, a deeper section was blocked off by a heavy material curtain in a light taupe color which hid the pantry. Past the three to four feet that spanned this section, one was greeted by the sight of the living room. The furnishings, which included two couches, a low coffee table of sorts, three end tables—two around one couch, one beside the other—and a couple of high-back lounge chairs, were arranged in a loosely intimate, circular pattern. And while the floor was hardwood, a large rug covered most of the area where the furniture sat. This included the area closest to the right side of the room, into which a fireplace was set in more stone, with a wooden shelf built atop its mantel.

There were no lights in the area, and the only lamps that could be found were gasoline, or replaced by candles. This would be the theme throughout the rest of the house. In place of lights, plenty of windows were spotted throughout the large room, though thick curtains blocked anyone from seeing into the house or out of it currently. In the back of the cabin was the only bedroom, and to the left an open-arced doorway led into the kitchen. The small space and warmly hued fixtures made the cabin cozy, emphasized by the dim lighting and the uneven stones that made up the walls. Picturesque paintings of landscapes hung on the walls, framed in intricately carved wood. Though the place was rarely visited, and thus a strange home even to the Avalanche leader who'd invested in it some time ago, everything from the unlit fire to the cushiony rug underfoot was reassuring…and secure. It was hidden, and those that knew it existed, did not go seeking it out unless in extreme circumstances.

Softly Cloud stepped through the cabin, taking the unconscious woman into the bedroom. He was careful to place her upon the bed slowly, without jarring or dropping any of her limbs. After laying her down, softly he went over each of her injuries, keeping in mind the last words of Reeve. '_Make certain to elevate her legs, and that her neck has proper support so cramps do not develop, it says here. With the amount of head trauma she's suffered, the last thing you want is for a pinched or locked muscle to injure her cranium further, the doctor kept reminding me. Also, keep her warm._' He had been relaying the information from one of the physicians he had contacted about the woman's transport. Though the former Shin-Ra executive had made sure to leave a copy of the Crimson's caretaking needs, Cloud had left that back with the rest of the supplies at the forest edge. He would not need it now.

When he was certain she was resting safely, he turned to the closet and pulled from it two additional blankets, one thinner than the other, along with several pillows. Mellifluously he did as he had been instructed, resting her calves upon two pillows and ensuring the one beneath her head curved to support the back of her neck while not putting too much pressure on it. It was nothing he had any expertise in. In fact, he felt awkward.

After gazing over the strange setup his eyes rested on her bare feet. Hesitantly he reached out for another pillow, paused. Then he stepped closer to the foot of the bed and lifted up the pillow. He placed it against the soles of her feet, but immediately saw it would not work. Laying the pillow flat, he turned once more to the closet and glanced over the top and bottom racks that held the additional bedding. Finally he came to a decision and pulled a small but thick blanket from the top rack. He unfolded it and rerolled it before placing it atop the pillow at the woman's feet. Now they would not become cold. He looked up to her arms, resting limply at her sides, and softly reached out, resting his palm over the back of one small hand. He had not noticed before, how tiny this woman was. Now that there was neither biting steel nor glass to separate them, she looked even more human than she had back at the W.R.O. It was…stunning. And her hand, it was cold. Cloud took her gently by the hand and elbow, lifting up her arm and repositioning the bound limb over her stomach before leaning cautiously over her and doing the same with the other. Finally he turned and picked up one of the two blankets he had taken out before. Selecting the thicker one, he laid it over her, making certain to tuck her in loosely so no drafts would seep into her while she rested, but she would have room to shift should she stir and wake.

At last he stepped back, focusing on the only part of her now visible. Her face, gashed deeply he had been told, was swollen on one side where a cut had gotten infected. A clean white bandage was placed diagonally over her right brow and down along her eye to her cheek, hiding a long jagged cut that was more gruesome than it was dangerous to her wellbeing. As he studied her face yet again, it still was unbelievable. Everything about her was pale and sickly. She looked ready for the crypt, the darkness around her eyes and the purple hue to her lips dull, but stark against the pallor of her complexion.

Cloud turned away from the bed and picked up the other blanket he had taken out before. Though he was thankful the flooring here was carpeted, he still laid out the extra blanket against the wall. Fishing out a thin pillow from the closet, he dropped it at the head of the 'bed' on the floor, spreading out a similarly thin blanket over the other, under which he would sleep. If he was going to sleep at all tonight, or perhaps any other night, it would be near to the Crimson Tsviet.

Moving silently, he went one last time to the closet, closing the doors before turning and opening up the dresser in the room, retrieving some clothes into which he might change for the night. The drenching he had received required a thorough drying of his clothes, and so he exited the bedroom, moving into the bathroom next door through the living room. It had taken only a minute for him to change, and then another to hang his clothes on a line that could be put up in one corner of the living room. Life here would be considerably old fashioned after the technological privileges he had become used to in Edge, or anywhere else throughout the Planet. Nevertheless, he was grateful. It was far better than residing in the wilderness.

The blonde haired man walked barefoot through the cabin now. He checked the front door and all the windows, making certain they were locked. Then he dug into the cabin's medical supply and put together a small basket of necessities that he would keep in the bedroom to make tending to the Crimson's wounds easier. Before he headed back into the other room, however, he walked to a door in the southeast corner of the living room. Opening it, he was faced with a wall of chopped wood that would provide for almost a month of cold weather. Though summer was only in its last month, and the island of Mideel was normally tropical, the rains that had been brought on the head of the storms from last week continued to chill the air. Also, for the world traveler, while it was warmer up north, that meant the cool temperatures were taking the lower hemisphere over. Gathering all the supplies and tinder he needed to start a fire, Cloud closed the door after himself and brought the wood to the fireplace. Before a few minutes had passed, life rose with growing chatter in the stone hearth.

Picking up the basket as he went, Cloud walked back towards the bedroom. He recalled now that Reeve had said it might take a couple of days for the Crimson to wake. That fact precipitated several other tasks that he knew he could not refuse to get around to completing, and the sooner the better. However, each of them required a trip into the village, and he neither desired nor looked forward to doing either. Whether or not the storm passed, he would not risk leaving the cabin until at least forty-eight hours from tomorrow morning. By then, he hoped, the Bane would wake. In addition, though he knew he had enough medical stock in the cabin to last him the couple of days, after that he would need to go retrieve the materials he had stashed away at the edge of the forest. If the Crimson Bane was not conscious by then, he would have to risk leaving her alone.

Silently he gazed down at her once more. Without a word, he sat himself down in a chair that was against the wall. A soft breath of air escaped him, and he studied the woman as his thoughts wandered.

. . . . . . .

"_I wish you could guide me."_

_The thought was pleasantly wry._

. . . . . . .

The air trembled. It was the first of many things that were out of place. Was there danger to note? No…no that was not it. This…feeling…it was known, even though it remained foreign. A handful of times now, had this sensation overwhelmed the skin and senses. Like being washed away. A coolness that had nothing to do with temperature, refreshing the skin and soothing the eyes. Moisture and the gentle murmur of its presence…. Was this…rain? Rain, that was it. The air was filled with it, even though it did not touch the flesh.

It must have been outside…was _still_ outside. That rustling and tapping melody was unlike…any other sound in the world. Though what it fell on was a guess of ignorance, the tune was the same. Rain. A wonder, an urge to revel in it in person, in the flesh, surged up. _Let me go to it. For a small while…._ Yet movement—why…? Limbs were heavy—no. Restrained. _That_ was easier to discern than the former. A soft groan attempted to rise up, but failed upon lips more breathless than had at first been apparent. Choked off, a breath came raggedly out instead. Shock and anger were kindled. What was…the meaning of this! Bound, and—the thought was cut off. A scent had come to flaring nostrils.

A pause, lips parted slightly while clenched teeth relaxed their pressure. With an effort, eyebrows knit and fell, muscles unused for too long strained at one simple task. And then, a sliver…the struggle paid off.

Her eyes opened.

The beams of a wooden ceiling were the first sight that met her. They sloped upwards to one side, immediately revealing where the rest of the house lay. Only a little light filtered through a sheer curtain. Rousing claret eyes shifted to the wide-set, rectangular window in the wall by her bedside. Only a small patch of gray was visible, the rest…it was dark, but shifting; individual things that rose high enough…to obscure the sky. Trees…? Her eyes closed for a moment, a small puff of air escaping from her nose. She stilled herself, listened. A small crackling, a murmured rushing of oxygen being consumed—fire? Yes. The sounds of avid hunger? Eyelids rose. No…slower, more leisurely.

Once more, her eyes drooped, lids sinking heavily without her consent. Water and fire, and stone and sky. And she was…. Her eyes opened wider by a fraction, then her gaze dropped to her body. She saw that she was reposed upon a small bed meant for only one person, a thick brown-and-green cover blanketing her unusually supported form. Was this all that weighed her down? How strange…that she should not be able to lift it. Upon what did she rest? Could she move her limbs at all? Tensing the muscles in her arm experimentally, she jolted and hissed as a streak of pain went through her entire limb, into her shoulder and back. She stopped the contraction abruptly and exhaled quietly, slowly. The extent of her inhibitions was beginning to come to mind. Gently her eyes returned to their former position, staring upwards at the ceiling behind closed lids. They had begun to ache from staring downward at such an angle. Her head now ached from it.

Suddenly, with a sharp, painful hitch of breath, she set her jaw and attempted to sit up. As soon as her head lifted from the cushion and back arched, streams of pain rippled through her neck and arms, racing down her back and igniting a fire in her chest. She let out a strangled, corrugated ghost of a scream. Her head throbbed with the intensity of feet pounding the pavement at a full run, her head shook inside, swimming and knocked from above by invisible pistons, enough to make her nauseous. Crashing mutely back down onto the cushions, she clamped her lips shut as her throat fluctuated, then constricted violently, cutting off all oxygen and the potential for regurgitation as well. Her mind reeled, head spun too, heart lurching in volatile palpitations within her chest, like a small fiend raging to burst free from within the insipid cage. Dizziness overtook her. She lost her breath, as though it had been sucked from her lips. Sight blurred, then dimmed. Knowing nothing else she could do, the wounded Crimson squeezed her eyes shut tight with what little energy she had remaining.

She did not lose consciousness.

Slowly, the remnant pains throbbing throughout her body with electric intensity began to subside. The edge dulled, till aches were all that remained. No better aware of the passage of time than before her waking, it took an endless wait until her heartbeats steadied and her breathing became once more deep and restful, but hued by exhaustion. How was it that weariness so easily overtook her? Wounds…there had to have been wounds. Memory returned in gentle waves, like the soft brush of air from an electric fan as it turned upon you. There had been…anger, despair—cumulated through a sudden solution, a final flight. Freedom…pain, so cold and blinding—sight and every sensation lost except for _feeling_. Overwhelming and beyond designation, death could not have been so vast an accumulation of sensations, intense to the point of crippling the already fallen. Fire and ice, upon the skin, biting inside eagerly—severing tight filaments, taut strings of muscle fraying with a strange, almost audible noise—a snapping, shredding. Surface broken, carefully sealed skin pierced, exposing what was kept so snugly within—the same sickening sensation of half her chest collapsing under a pressure so immense it drove all thoughts and being from the mind, grinding bone against stone, grinding away onion paper skin, blood not smoothing the rough, jagged hammer-edges. No longer was there existence. There was only weight, crushing the body and emptying the head, making it a shell for a vast nothing. No sight, eyes bursting with tears. No sound, mouth agape—_Please, scream…_—breathless.

Darkness. Then light, voices—motion. Flight, brightness—stirring. Hands, tools—cessation. A slow recognition entered her thoughts. They had drugged her—she was still faintly conscious—laid her to rest in an ocean with no freedom—encased her in a coffin of metal, glass and fluid. Seeking death, her sanctum had been perverted by the humorous 'good intentions' of one man—the flaccid leader of the World Regenesis Organization. She recognized the scent. A sickly, thick, acrid liquid churned in her stomach, threatened once more to rise to her throat. The slow opening of pallid eyelids dispelled the emotion. Softly, a light began to stir within the depths of red irises, a diamond amongst the flames.

Somehow, after then…freedom had been returned. By him. For the first time, Rosso's eyes roved over to the doorway. It had probably been left open to let the heat, from the fire she could still hear burning, warm her room as well. No longer did she have to guess at it. She could taste him upon the air. He did not come—no, was not within. Her struggles would have alerted him almost instantly to her awakening. There was no one else here. Her lips curled curiously.

. . . . . . .

"_You have no fear, do you, darling?"_

. . . . . . .

The door to the cabin opened with a light creak. Walking through the opening, a 24" by 14" box in one arm, Cloud brought with him a gust of cool, damp air from the Mideel forest. The rain had peppered the island on and off since their arrival, and not once had the overcast skies broken to allow the sun through. It was drizzling incessantly even now as the blonde turned and grabbed the knob to close the door behind him. Thankfully, the rest of the supplies he had seen fit to bring had been already retrieved and stored in a small underground cellar beneath the woodland cabin. This sealed cardboard box that he now carried was the last of the bunch—and the only he would keep directly inside the cabin.

Placing the package upon the floor off to the side, he removed his coat and boots, putting both away on and under the small coat rack respectfully. Small drops fell from the bottom of his pants where a little too much rain had reached him, but for the most part he was dry. It would be the first time in four days.

Lifting the box from the floor, his footfalls were cushioned as he moved across the living room by the socks he had chosen for the moment to leave on. The box in his arms was the only one containing the basic, essential medical supplies he had been given to tend to the Crimson Tsviet's wounds. Over the past three days he had been able to make due with changing her bandages, cleaning and disinfecting her wounds, and splinting certain limbs with whatever he'd had stocked up in the cabin. However, by nightfall on the third day, it was apparent that the meager first aid supply he'd had on hand would not be enough. Specific antibiotics and large gauze strips, other bandages and wound-sealing disinfectants were present in sparse amounts. He could, as he'd originally presumed, no longer delay the trip to the stock tent.

This also had brought up one very prominent problem. Three full days had gone by, by the evening of the night prior, and still the unconscious survivor had yet to wake from her artificially induced coma. Reeve's words had been clear when he'd repeated the amount of time it would take the Tsviet to regain consciousness. 'Two to three days,' he had said on more than one occasion as they're prepared to transport the injured woman. By the morning of the fourth day, Cloud could wait no longer to put off what tasks he had set aside on the chance that the Crimson would stir from her numb slumber. Thus, he spent the day more away from the cabin than he did watching over the Tsviet. First to the storage tent, where most of the stock was unloaded and brought back to the cabin cellar, one or two packages at a time. To move any more would have been stupid or suicidal in the thick vegetation that coated near every inch of Mideel. Once only the sole box remained, he made a side trip into the village which took little over twice as long a time. It was on his way back that he had gathered up the box of medical supplies for his guest and returned only recently. A full day had been almost completely spent by the time of his arrival. One of the few electrical pieces in the cabin, an old grandfather clock in one corner of the living room, ticked away several minutes after six in the evening.

As he entered the bedroom, Cloud looked first to the bed as had become habit over the past few days.

"So it was you who had taken me away after all."

The blonde's eyes widened slightly as the immobile figure beneath the blanket spoke. She had spoken before he could even focus upon her face. She had to have been expecting him then. "You've been awake for a while," he responded with just as obvious a comment. Turning to place the box atop the low dresser, he could feel her eyes on him even as he opened it and began removing the various articles packed away within it.

"And you've seen fit to take care of me handsomely," she pressed, a clear note of amusement sewn into her voice. Cloud did not, at first, answer. Taking the now empty box off the dresser, he turned to the chair upon which he had sat throughout many of the nights before. His eyes moved to meet hers as he switched the box for the basket of supplies and straightened again. "You could tell?" he asked, noting again her continued immobility and ashen demeanor.

The claret-haired figure convulsed abruptly, a hoarse coughing fit rattling loose from her lips. Cloud immediately stepped around the bed, moving swiftly to her side, the basket still in one arm. Only as he reached out to place a hand over the center of her chest, not knowing how else—if there was a way—to stifle such a ragged spasm, did he realize what had gripped the Tsviet. The curl to her mouth, the flash of teeth for a moment as she inhaled deeply in an attempt to steady her breathing—she had been laughing. A light expulsion of breath left his lips silently, and his hand retreated from where it had stopped, hovering over her chest. After a minute longer, the coughing came under control and with a slow knitting of brows, the Tsviet's eyes closed. Cloud watched her silently.

"What is outside?"

He considered the woman peculiarly for a moment. The way she had worded her query made it sound as though she was asking for a definition. After a second, his eyes shifted to the window, staring beyond the lace curtain to the dark outlines of trees. The evening light was already fast fading. Soon nothing would be visible outside at all, for little sun pierced the thick foliage, let alone the starlight at nightfall. He hesitated to speak, dwelling on what it was this peculiar woman wanted to know. Were there people? The lay of the land? These and countless other answers he could give, so he began with the most easily perceived. "There is a forest, and a little village." He paused, reflected on their surroundings, and as he spoke again, he stepped away from the bed's side to return to what he had left unfinished in the dimming light. "We are on an island, usually considered to be in the tropics. Right now, it's colder. The weather is changing to fit the winter. Watch your eyes in a second," he said softer, derailing delicately from his elaboration to reach out to a gas lamp. Silently he turned the knob and lit the gas with a match from a packet kept near to the light. Then he replaced the glass on top of the base and increased the brightness of the flame with another gentle turn.

As the blonde returned to the large wicker basket, the Crimson's eyes turned from him to gaze wordlessly around the room. It looked completely different now, even for the small stature of the light that filled it. But it filled it well enough, and its light was warm flickering light, full of life that melted away the shadows and somehow the emptiness of the place in which she was trapped. Her gaze turned once more to the back of the blonde, and she studied him. A few impertinent questions whirred behind lightly shut lips, and she wondered for a moment why he did not continue. Then it came to her that, perhaps, he was waiting for her. There was a soft noise she made with her nose, continued with a murmur from the back of her throat. Clever? Or perceptive?

"We're on an island?" she wanted to confirm.

The blonde head nodded. "It's called Mideel."

The claret haired woman said nothing. She did not recognize the name. All that she gathered was the obscurity of their location from what her tender did and did not say. Deserted? Close enough. She did not have to question if anyone else was here, or knew. She would have to ensure only that her mobility was returned swiftly. If the trusting aegis sought to speed her recovery, then she would use him without fear of reprimand, and he would break or emerge purer through the inferno. It was the law of existence that the weak should perish.

It was the way of Deepground.

Suddenly she lifted her left arm, the only limb that seemed willing to respond and did not cause her great trauma, and planted the palm on the mattress at her side. Biting back the sharp hiss of pain, she arched backwards and then rocked herself forward, pushing with the arm to attempt to sit up. This time she could not contain the abrupt outcry of pain that burst from her throat. She convulsed forward, trembling and abruptly snarled when she felt the unexpected faint pressure of hands at her back and arm. Whirling as best she could on the blonde, she bared her teeth at him and tried to bite his arm, but he sidestepped swiftly, evading her teeth, and she winced at her own motions, paralyzed for a moment by the wave of pain that swept her body.

"Is asking so hard?" she heard him say from above her, and did not hear the concern. Nor could she answer as a shuddering, dry retching consumed her body, and she forfeited control of it unwillingly to the coughing that followed, throwing out her good arm awkwardly to rest against this unmoving man before her. He did not flinch or pull away, and inside shame and fury contorted as suddenly as tenders burst into a blaze at the faintest glow of an ember, further humiliating her. It was the taste of bile, stripping her throat raw with acid, burning, setting her entire chest aflame, pressure, even facing down it was bearing up, steel clamps contracting around her lungs, face aching, throbbing from tugged, freshly torn wounds. It was bile and rage, poisoned caustic saliva on her tongue and teeth clenched to the point of agony, nerves screaming in her jaw, tight and ready to tear in the neck—this rage….

First crippled by an unsuccessful meeting with death. Then to be filed away as a subject for study and experimentation—illimitable, corrugated destiny crystallized—a decayed purpose evermore sealed as lips were sewn, eyes blackened, limbs bound, scent confused and hearing remained only so that she might be endlessly deceived. It was their way. Bastards! Promises—Hope, tethering to it by the faintest strands while rage—bitter and bottomless agony and loathing—conquered all sensibility and obscured the horizon. It was their end for her—their sole purpose! Now freedom was hers, provided her by an unusual angel, for he did not know of his own gift, and yet she _could…not…grasp_…_it!_ For the cruelty of fate had yet found a way in which to keep her from it. And this man, this shortsighted _oblivious_ man! He thought only of her wellbeing and did not see that his _kind_ acts cordoned her off from what she desired greater than _life_ itself!

"You don't have to hurt yourself to get there now."

She froze. Panting heavily despite herself, her body trembled overwhelmingly after her struggles had subsided, only a faint weakness remaining. Twisted half in and half out of bed, one bandaged leg lopsidedly hanging, dragging on the floor while her injured right arm was delicately and securely held in the Avalanche leader's grasp. The other forearm supported her weight against his stomach, as she hung limp as a puppet tangled in its strings. Swallowing her ragged breaths slowly…shutting her lips tightly…the Crimson Tsviet lifted her head gradually to look up at the azure eyes, expecting to meet them, and angry when she did. "It won't disappear," he said, and his voice was like the murmuring breeze through the trees.

She had screamed before. Now she roared.

It did not surprise him. Even when the pressure against his stomach increased beyond what he'd hoped the Tsviet would be capable of in her condition, he stood his ground. "RELEASE ME!" she bellowed, pupils dilated but unclear, he noticed. The arm turned and nails suddenly sought purchase through his shirt and into skin, the other arm jerked from his grip even though he'd tightened it to prevent just that. The streak of pain across her face paled the Crimson's skin for the breadth of a second before she tucked the arm in close to her body, and turned a cruel grimace on him. Her eyes did not meet his, wavering in their sight, and as she straightened, twisting away from him, she fumbled to find footing on the thick carpet. But she would fall, and as she struck at him once more, he did his best to still her and prevent the accident.

Cloud caught her arm, unbalancing her unintentionally as she sought to pull away from him. She broke free…and fell heavily to the floor, a small feral, wailing cry breaking from her lips. She had landed on her arms, one leg caught tangled in the blankets still on the bed while the other lay deadened upon the floor, heavily bound and bandaged. In that position, movement was impossible beyond collapse. Her arms trembled as they held up her thin form, began to shake until they quavered violently, like taut metal strands giving under too much weight, and in a few seconds the muscles in her arms were wobbling with the violence of slim boughs buffeted by storm winds. Her face was wrinkled with agony lines when he crouched beside her, present but no longer rushing to her aid.

The Tsviet's agony-vivid eyes were set stoically on the carpeting between her palms. Her breathing hitched and rasped as she suddenly half-hissed, half-growled her next words to him. "You are…infuriating beyond my expectations." The blonde only regarded her calmly. Suddenly her face contorted in an expression of rage and unexpected confusion. But whatever words wanted to break from her lips she either withheld, or could not get out. Her right arm collapsed then and as his hands went out swiftly to catch her, and prevent her from hurting herself any more than she already had, he found with surprise her eyes suddenly shifted to his, regarding him with…_sympathy_. "You are half blind." Her very voice was weariness itself. "You see only one side of the picture," she informed him nonetheless, with resolution, and he was struck by the intensity of her statement and its significance, delivered from a face as swollen and unattractive as hers had become.

"Maybe that's true," he said at last. "You'll have time to tell me about it later." Even with the sincerity in his voice, the claret haired Tsviet snorted airily and one corner of her lips lifted in an irate smirk, white teeth gleaming faintly in the lamp light. _You don't get it_, she seemed to say, even as Cloud ignored her reaction and began to lift her slowly to her feet. She could have been falling into delirium by this point, having suffered so much profound pain. Yet he could not undermine her words. Her good arm came between them suddenly and clasped him above the elbow of his, and he stopped, focusing on her eyes and thinking, for a moment, he saw a glimmer of hesitance flash over them. However now, with her irises shrunken from the acute pain still sending a ripple of chills throughout her body, the look in their vibrant red depths was commanding, wide-eyed and steady. In that instant, her features were more human than Cloud had ever seen them.

"I am _not_ the victim here," she effused firmly, her grip tightening on his arm. Involuntarily, his eyes widened a moment, lips parting over his teeth in shock just slightly at the fortitude of her words. Of doubt or uncertainty, there was none in her voice, and it set a nagging node in the back of his head alight with implication. "Later," he repeated again, and worked around her arm to rest her down in at least a stationary seat upon the bed.

"Have it your way, darling," she answered him, suddenly aloof, though fatigue colored every expression in her face and posture now. "I have no choice but to remain here anyway."

"I could always send you back," he commented coolly, but not unkindly as he moved out of the bedroom.

"Ah, but you won't, darling," she remarked with a pleased—or perhaps amused—look. How had she become so smug so swiftly? He shook his head now from inside the living room, knowing she could not see him from where he knelt before the fireplace to stoke the flames to warm the small cabin. Suddenly he heard a small stirring and squeak from the bed in the room. "_Must_ you leave me in here," he heard her mutter, trailing off absently, and recognized that she was indeed addressing him. Standing up from the fireplace and repositioning the protective grate in the stone base, he turned to walk back into the bedroom and found to his surprise that she had fallen somewhat awkwardly onto her slightly better side away from the pillows. Her eyes were shut, her mouth slightly ajar. Quietly he moved towards her and realized that she had fallen asleep. He regressed—she had spent whatever little energy she had had.

Slowly he reached out the back of a hand and rested it against her forehead for a few moments to make sure she did not have a fever. Her skin felt normal beneath the bandaging. He drew his hand back, relieved, and more delicately than ever now lifted her properly into a reposed position. Drawing the blankets up to cover her neck and swiftly now rearranging the pillows to cushion her body, he ensured she was warm without disturbing her from her sleep. There was no telling now how lightly she rested, and so he moved quietly around her.

Almost without intending it, he found a deep breath rushing from his mouth. He cast a thought out experimentally and a light smile crept into the edges of his lips at the response.

. . . . . . .

"_This is going to be grueling."_

_A warm laugh from somewhere up above._

"_Did you expect it to be easy?"_

. . . . . . .

**Author's Note:** This chapter was considerably slower than my first, but to be reasonable, the details needed to be set up and put aside sooner rather than later. Now, in the next chapter, the true fun will begin, and I know many of you will enjoy the fights that will ensue between these two. As it is, I truly hope you enjoyed this update, however long in coming it was. Also, in the future, I may not answer all of your reviews directly in my fics. But I will continue to try and address any questions or comments you may or may not have. Once again, thank you all very kindly for taking the time out to read and enjoy this story. May many more people be touched by it! And thank you again for all your kind words/reviews on my last chapter. I hope to hear from the rest of you all again!


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